Hurricane
by Pieequals36
Summary: No walls can keep me protected, no sleep nothing in between me and the rain. And you can’t save me now; I’m in the grip of a hurricane.' - Florence and the Machine


**A/N: One shot, Seddie related. I'm in love with this couple :) Feedback is adored x**

"_No walls can keep me protected, no sleep nothing in between me and the rain. And you can't save me now; I'm in the grip of a hurricane. I'm gonna blow myself away. I'm going out, I'm gonna drink myself to death, and in the crowd I see you with someone else. I brace myself; cos I know it's gonna hurt. But I like to think at least things can't get any worse. I hope that you see me, cos I'm staring at you. But when you look over, you look right through then you lean in and kiss her on the head and I never felt so alive and so dead." – Hurricane, Florence and the Machine_

I drink because I like the feeling. That's the excuse I'm using and it's the one I'm sticking to. I should know better – I'm 19 now afterall. Carly keeps telling me that something will happen one of these days. I kind of hope something does. It would make life interesting again. I certainly didn't start because of anyone in particular.

Nope. It did not a hurt one bit when the Dork finally managed to subdue some poor, brainless girl and get her to call herself his girlfriend. Thinking about it _she_ probably needs more help than I do. I mean who in all sanity would actually want to be with Fudgeface? Not me that's who.

And on a quick side note I've decided a Long Island Iced Tea is my favourite drink. Yes indeed. I mean it's sort of perfect. What other drink contains such a mix that it kills anything that you don't want to feel? Not that I have anything that I'm trying to avoid. It's just a nice drink is all.

I can't believe I ended up going to the same college as him anyway. I mean how did that really happen? What were the chances? It was a miracle I even got in. NYU decided to ignore my "high spirited past" because of my creative entry essays and application.

Which the dork wrote for me.

Damn him and his old-fashioned chivalry.

Anyway, Carly ended up getting into Sarah Lawrence and it's great to have her nearby. It's kinda like we all went the same direction. Figuratively and literally. Still having the kid nearby, didn't stop my inevitable alcoholism. Stupid, drunk influential mother. (Yes I'm still going to ignore any part Fredward Benson may have played in my downfall). Carly's really buggin' me though. She keeps telling me I have a problem (well, what else is new?) and I should _talk _to someone. She tried to get me to talk about some deep chiz, but I really don't have anything to talk _about_.

Kinda.

Sorta.

I mean it's not like I get up in the morning and mix vodka with my Cap'n Crunch. I just like to go out three or four times a week and get abysmally drunk. What's wrong with that?

_Not a god damn thing._

So here I am again, with Carly, in some drag bar in Soho playing bingo. I know weird right? Not really when you consider what other habits I've picked up since I moved here. Anyway we're watching "Victoria's Secret" perform I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston and bringing a whole new level of class to the song, when suddenly I see the Geek, making his way through the crowded bar. Little Miss I'm-Blind-Deaf-And-Dumb in tow.

"Carly!" I hiss, poking her side roughly, "Who the hell invited him?"

"Jesus Sam!" she scolds, rubbing her now finger bruised side, "I did. He's our friend, _remember_?"

"Yeah whatever about me putting up with Fredweird for the night, but I don't want to have to watch him and Dopey suckin' face."

"You don't like Mary?"

"It's not that I don't like the chick. It's just....have you ever had someone who's face just annoys you?"

Carly scrunches up her nose at me, with that all judging look, before we're joined by the ever happy couple.

"Hi guys!" Barbie says, flicking her sleek red dyed hair. Such a wannabe rocker chick. I'd almost like her style if the Weiner wasn't hanging off her arm.

"I need a drink."

"Sam..." I hear Carly call as I push Freddie roughly out of my way. He stumbles and glares at me as I glide past, grinning from ear to ear. I don't think I'll ever grow out of the torture thing. So there I am in my ever familiar place, propped up at the bar ordering a tequila. Then another. Then another. After the fourth the world becomes fuzzy and I realise I'm sufficiently intoxicated enough to re-join the Happy Days crew. And sure enough there they are, bobbing along to the music. Freddie and Mary (the rhyme makes me giggle) stand with their hands in each others back pockets. If I hadn't of just spent over 30 dollars on alcohol I would've puked it up.

"I love this song!" I scream. All three glance at me, eyebrows raised as I gleefully jump up and down. In truth, I don't even know the song. I just don't like the way Fredifer as of yet hadn't even acknowledged my presence. Usually the twirp would be cowling in fear or givin' me that goofy smile of his. But not tonight. Nope, he's too busy holding whats-her-names hand and giving HER that goofy smile. I mean what did she do to deserve it? It's not like she relentlessly tortures and berates him until he only has one centimetre of his masculinity left. No. This chick is actually NICE to him. So really she doesn't need the goofy smile, because she doesn't deserve it. She does sweet things all the time. The goofy smile is mine. I earned it.

So I decide to do something so uncharacteristically Sam. I wrap one arm around his neck and pull him into a side hug. He almost falls from the sheer force and laughs, albeit a little nervously. Carly looks at me with her "what the fuck" expression and I simply grin, smacking my lips against his cheek loudly.

"Well hey there Sam," he chuckles. I feel his hand slide around my waist and there's this odd tingle that shivers through my body, and it's a feeling I blame on my peeked senses – a result of the copious amounts of tequila currently in my system.

Yup that's totally it.

Totally.

When did the dork get so tall anyway? If I wiggle just so my head just sort of buries in the crook of his arm. I close my eyes, my head really dizzy now. This is sort of comfortable.

"Sam you ok?" I hear him whisper, his hand brushing repetitively up and down my arm. The music bangs around me, everything vibrating and I snuggle in closer. It's not my fault he makes a comfy pillow.

Suddenly I feel a hand jolt me out of his embrace and my eyes snap open, glaring at the accused. Carly fixes her steely gaze on me nodding towards Fredwardo's fuck buddy.

"What?"

"Dude, she's pissed off."

Sure enough Lil-Miss-I-Love-Fallout Boy, is staring ahead, arms crossed while Dorkazoid tries desperately to get her attention.

"What the hell is she mad about? Did Britney cancel her tour?"

"No. You were draping yourself all over her boyfriend."

What?

"What?" Apparently when I'm drunk I speak my mind. "No I wasn't. Like I'd hang over the dork."

"Well ya just were."

"Even if I was, he was mine first."

"What?" Carly asks, shocked and surprised.

"What?" Apparently I'm also very coherent when drunk.

I turn away trying to fix my gaze on something other than her curious eyes. In my head the rhyme repeat begins: _he's still a nerd, he's still a nerd, you don't like nerds_. Carly decides, that because I'm ridiculously drunk, she'll let the Freudian slip pass, instead her hand reaches out to steady me.

_Damn heels. _

I steal a glance in the happy couple's direction. She's still refusing to talk to him and he's rolling his eyes, hands stuffed in his front jeans pocket. Ah young love. The next thing I know, Fredwardo's gaze has fixed on mine. Man his eyes are intense. _Stupid puberty making him all tall and mysterious_. Or was that stupid alcohol? I really wasn't sure.

"You ok?" he mouths. I shrug and make my hands into a pillow placing them under my cheek. He chuckles, and even drunk me is surprised when he pulls me back to his side, his hand resuming its earlier motion of that wonderfully repetitive up down movement. Any other time I'd punch the freak. But honestly I'm drunk and could use the standing prop. Besides there's that little crook again where my head fits oh so well.

"Stop drinking so much Puckett," I hear him say. God everything feels numb.

"I like tequila," I reply as if it's some sort of justification.

"Yeah well, tequila doesn't like you."

"Neither does your girlfriend right now," I hiccup, my eyes still closed.

"She does like you."

"I meant you."

"She's just tired. Kinda like you are."

Drunkenly I decide it will be completely acceptable if I run a hand across his middle, which apparently isn't acceptable at all because for the second time I'm jolted away from him, this time by a push rather than a pull. I look at him through glazed eyes, confused.

"You should probably go home Sam, if you're tired," he stutters, retreating to his girlfriends side. She resumes my position on the other side, apparently oblivious to any previous interaction between myself and her boyfriend. She's also clearly forgiven him for any earlier trespasses and kisses him sweetly on his chin.

"I...I..." I clutch my head. I hate that feeling when you realise you're way too drunk be in public, but can't regain any dignity or ability to appear sober. I look helplessly to Carly, before my knees wobble from beneath me. She catches me as I stumble forward and throws my arm around her neck.

"C'mon," she sighs, "I'm taking her home guys. Night."

The last thing I remember is her tucking me into her bed and sliding up by my side, putting her arms around me.

"Sam...." she whispers, "I know how much you like him. But he's not worth this. Please stop."

I pretend to sleep. I can't promise her I will.

It's still nothing to do with Fredward Benson.


End file.
